


Every Time You Close Your Eyes

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: 3+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: Three times Isak settles for less, and one time he doesn't.





	Every Time You Close Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So, this stems from a prompt list on Tumblr, and was originally posted on my blog in three parts (the quotes at the beginning of each part were the prompts, sent in by the lovelies [Bri](https://brionbroadway.tumblr.com) and [Isi](https://isisisak.tumblr.com)). Since they all got kind of... long-ish, I thought I'd put them together as a oneshot and post it here, for easier reading and for archiving. (the +1 was included in part 3 to begin with)  
> Title from Arcade Fire.

**1. ”There is nothing wrong with you.”**

He can’t say at what point their sleepovers turned awkward.

When they started feeling… complicated, somehow.

When, all of a sudden, there was an new importance to Even’s words, his casual touches, the sound of his light snores from the mattress on the floor.

When it wasn’t just fun and games and ice cream in pillow forts anymore.

He can’t remember when he stopped falling asleep at the same time Even did – when he just started lying here, staring at the ceiling, listening to Even’s breathing, thinking.

Has it been weeks, months? Half a year? A whole year, even?

All he knows is that it isn’t the same anymore.

For as long as he can remember, it’s been a general rule that Even stays over when he and his parents come over for dinner. And with their dads being best friends ever since university, still working in the same business, and them living only a few blocks apart, it’s been a regular event for as long as Isak can remember.

Later on, it's happened more and more often that Even came over on his own. Or that Isak went over to his.

Somehow, Even has always just… been there.

Even with two years between them, it’s always been natural. Almost as if they’d been siblings, or cousins, sometimes saying and thinking the same things.

Effortless. Easy.

So why is it that it’s become like this all of a sudden?

Why is it that every time Even laughs nowadays, there’s a new, aching kind of warmth running through his chest? Why does a tingle run down his spine when their hands brush, or when Even shoves him lightly as he loses in Mario Kart once again? Why can’t he look away from that sliver of skin showing between Even’s pants and his t-shirt as he leans forward to turn of the console, or reaches for a glass in the upper cabinet?

Why is it that lying here on his bed, watching Even’s eyelashes fan out over his cheeks, makes his insides writhe with longing, like a both dull and searing ache?

It’s not only that he knows how utterly  _wrong_  it is – he can only imagine the look on his parent’s faces if they knew. If they had any idea of the indecent thoughts that ran through his head during dinner when Even’s leg accidentally brushed against his.

Or if they knew that he’s lying right here, right now, under their roof, in the room next to theirs, thinking only about all the things he wishes Even would do to him. What he would do to Even, if he’d let him.

It’s also that.

That even despite how strained, how freaked out Isak feels over this recent development, Even doesn’t seem to notice a single thing.

He’s just the same as he’s always been. He just laughs, that familiar singing, happy laugh that makes his whole face light up. Smiles, just as usual, as he teases Isak, but always with that fond look on his face. Asks him how his week in school has been, and really listens to what he says in return, even if it’s only  _good_  or  _I don’t know_  or  _okay, I guess._

That’s probably the worst part of it all. The absolute knowledge that Even, whatever this is that Isak feels, does not feel the same thing in return.

Why can’t he just fucking be like everybody else?

Like it wasn’t enough that his mum has been acting up lately again, or that even Jonas seems to be distancing himself from him, spending far too much time with his new girlfriend and sometimes leaving Isak to wander the schoolyard alone at break time, feeling even more exposed –

One more look at Even’s peaceful face, hand under his cheek, hair falling soft across his forehead, and he’s had enough.

He turns to his other side, facing the wall, holding his breath to stop the sob that threatens to spill out. The wallpaper is torn in places, the elephants and blue balloons fading at the edges. His father has promised to repaint his room into something more fitting for a fourteen-year old boy for ages now, but he never seems to remember.

Finally, he has to draw a breath, and the second he does, there’s nothing that can stop it. He’s trying to keep it down, to let his tears fall as silently as possible, but he must be doing a half-assed job, because suddenly he can feel the mattress dip behind him, and a familiar warmth against his back and his legs.

“Isak? What’s wrong?” Even’s voice is so soft, so deep, so considerate that it makes him want to rip his own heart out. As if Isak ever could tell him what’s wrong.

When the only thing that’s wrong is him.

He exhales, and brings the corner of the duvet up to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. “It’s – it’s nothing. Just tired.”

“Isak.” The concern in Even’s voice wraps around him, suffocating. “Will you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He can feel Even rise on his elbow behind him, and if it’s one thing he doesn’t want right now, it’s for him to see his red, swollen eyes, the snot running from his nose, his puffy face. He’ll have to give him something, just to keep him away. “Everything. Or, you know. It’s just me.”

Even lies back down, but his weight doesn’t leave Isak’s side. Instead, he lifts his arm and lets it come up to rest against Isak’s chest, drawing them even closer together, so close that Isak can feel his breath at the nape of his neck.

“There is nothing wrong with you.” Even’s voice is low, sincere, vibrating through his back.

And even if he knows it’s a lie, even if the truth is so far away from what he can ever tell Even, this is the only thing he has to hold on to in this moment.

So, no matter how wrong it is, he holds on to Even’s arm over his chest, breathes in, then out, and waits for sleep.

 

 

**2\. ”I don’t understand.”**

As Isak exits the school Friday afternoon and heads for the gate, he looks up, and feels his stomach sink.

There he is. Of course.

Even. Leaning against the railing, in that stupid hot navy-blue jacket of his, backpack casually slung over one shoulder, staring down into his phone. He looks up as Isak approaches, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Isak bites his lip. “What are you doing here?”

Not that he needs to ask.

He already knows. Because the last time Even and his parents had come over for dinner, Isak hadn’t been there.

He’d acted like he’d forgotten. Just gone over to Jonas directly after school and shut off his phone, pretending that the battery had died.

And the only reason had been that he didn’t have it in him to face Even again.

Ever since he’d started crying and then fallen asleep in Even’s arms during that last sleepover, things had gone from awkward to unbearable.

The dream he’d had that night is still vivid in his head – a feeling of total contentment, of being whole. No details, only the knowledge that he was completely, one hundred percent safe.

And then he’d woken up and realized he was lying there, in Even’s arms, face in the crook of Even’s neck, lips so close to his skin at his throat that it was barely inches from actual kissing.

Horrified, he’d tried to draw back, and all Even had done was draw him closer, still asleep, perhaps dreaming as well – and that’s when he’d realized that he had a boner. That both of them did.

And Even was still sleeping.

The panic that overtook him in that moment made him roll away from Even so fast that he’d bumped into the wall with a loud thud. Luckily, Even was too deep in sleep to wake up from it.

He’d hid in the kitchen until everyone woke up, not meeting Even’s eyes at breakfast, not really exhaling until Even finally went home.

They haven’t seen each other since.

And Even has, of course, come here to make sure he doesn’t run away again. Not that he should have any idea why Isak suddenly didn’t show up the last time.

And fuck no if Isak’s gonna tell him.

“I was thinking… I could walk you home?” Even straightens up, but his smile falters into tentative. “If it’s okay?

He can’t think of a good reason to say no. “Sure.”

Even looks like he’s going to take another step forward and hug him, and the last thing Isak wants right now is for that to happen – especially in the middle of the schoolyard – so he takes a few quick steps towards the gate, expecting Even to follow.

Except he doesn’t.

“What?” He turns around.

Even just stands there, biting his lip, a wary look on his face. “Are you sure?”

If it’s another thing he doesn’t want, it’s for Even to suspect that something might be wrong. So as he takes a step backwards, he keeps his eyes on him, and tries to keep the tone light.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?”

And this time, Even does catch on, and follows him out into the street. “Nothing. I just – we’re still coming over to yours in just a couple of hours, and I was in the area, so. But I – I maybe shouldn’t have showed up just like that.”

“Even.” Even if this whole situation might be uncomfortable, it’s even worse to see Even look so insecure and worried. “It’s okay. I said so, right?”

Even looks up at him, and then ahead, before he nods. “Okay.”

They keep walking, a safe distance between them, no brushing of fingers, the spring afternoon warm enough for none of them to wear gloves.

“Did I do something?” Even asks suddenly, and stops walking.

Isak bites his lip. “What?”

“I just wonder… I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine, I don’t wanna pressure you, but.” Even swallows, and drags a hand through his hair. “If there’s something I’ve done that bothers you, I’d rather know. So that I… won’t do it again.”

He looks to the side, away from Even. “I don’t understand.”

“Isak.” Even takes a small step towards him, and if Isak knows only one thing, it is that he cannot touch him right now, or he’ll explode.

He takes a step backwards. “What?”

“You’ve never not been there when we’ve had dinner before.”

He stares at Even, at the crease between his eyebrows, his perfect hair, his lips. “I told you. I forgot.”

“Okay.” Even eyes him carefully, but doesn’t say anything else.

They start walking again.

Until Even stops once more, outside the cornershop just a block away from Isak’s apartment.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Even reaches out a hand, but draws it back before Isak has time to recoil.

He scrapes his foot against the sidewalk. “I – I know.”

“And I – I want to talk to you about stuff, too, you know.” Even’s lips are parted, his eyes so blue, all this honesty –

He grabs the straps of his backpack, pulling them down until the strain around his shoulders starts to feel uncomfortable. “Yeah. I know.”

“So,” Even says, an indifferent tone to his voice that doesn’t feel natural, somehow. “This girl in my class asked me out last week.”

What the fuck?

It wouldn’t surprise him if Even dates, of course. In fact, would only be natural – Even’s the kind of person that no one can overlook, his presence in the room always noticeable. His kindness, his energy, his open, curious mind.

And his consideration. Always so attentive, focused on how others may feel.

Which is why Isak doesn’t get this.

Because even if he’s pretty sure that Even must have hooked up with at least some girls, or gone on dates with them, he’s never told Isak about it.

Maybe Even, with his sixth sense for what Isak needs and wants, has understood that it isn’t wanted.

So why now?

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to keep his breathing as even as possible, tries not to let his voice shake too much. “Okay.”

“I don’t know if I should say yes, actually.” He can feel Even’s stare burning into his forehead.

He keeps his eye on a pebble by the side of his left shoe. “Okay.”

“I’m not sure if I even like girls like that,” Even says next, and that sure is impossible to ignore.

He snaps his head up. “What?”

“I don’t know.” Even shrugs, his eyes on the shop window behind them. “Maybe I’d prefer a guy instead.”

What the _fuck._

The inside of his head a jumble, he only stands there, gaze fastened on Even who has his hands stuffed down his jeans pockets, casually looking to the side like he didn’t just turn Isak’s whole world upside down.

How can Even just say something like that? As if it’s not even a thing to worry about, equivalent to I’m not sure if I like that red sweater, maybe I’ll go with the blue one or maybe apple juice isn’t for me, maybe I’d prefer orange instead.

“A guy?” His voice sound croaky, foreign even to his own ears.

“Yeah. Or, you know. Maybe. It’s no big deal.” Even shrugs, again, before he nods toward the other end of the street. “Shall we go to yours?”

 

* * *

 

Dinner is a weird affair.

Nobody mentions how he wasn’t there the last time, but it’s still hanging in the air between them, as if the proverbial elephant has lodged itself on top of the dinner table. And even though the room is thick with the unsaid, he only receives the same polite questions as usual.

So, how’s school going? How is Jonas? Are you going to scout camp this year as well?

His mum’s been at a better place these past few weeks, and she joins in the conversation almost naturally, only the occasional glitch where she pauses with the salad bowl in her hands, her eyes distant for a second now and then.

Still, she seems more at ease than Isak does.

He can feel Even trying to meet his eyes across the table, but he doesn’t give in. If he so much as looks at Even right now, he’ll probably combust.

What the fuck did he mean by that thing he said in the street? Does he suspect something? Has he seen right through Isak, figured out his secret? And, if so, is this his way of telling him that it’s okay?

Or was it just some kind of bragging? Of showing Isak that he can get whoever he wants?

He does have a hard time believing that, after all.

There’s a moment when their socked feet touch under the table, and he pulls his leg away on instinct, careful not to meet Even’s eyes as he does so.

The worried look on Even’s face blends into his peripheral vision nonetheless.

When dinner’s over and Even’s parent’s head for the hallway, the two of them remain sitting at the table, and Even casts another careful glance at him.

“Maybe I… maybe I should go home, too.”

If it’s one thing he cannot stand right now, it’s for Even to think that something has changed between them. That Isak has something to hide. Or, worst of all, that he resents Even for his confession earlier.

So he swallows, and bites the inside of his cheek. “No. No – I think you should stay.”

“You do?” The smile on Even’s face is small, but it’s there.

And that’s all he can ask for right now.

 

* * *

 

It gets better after that, in the confines of his room, his PlayStation providing the familiar groove of playing, teasing, laughing for them to ease into.

As they get ready for bed, it feels almost as usual again. Brushing their teeth side by side in the bathroom, getting Even’s guest sheets, saying goodnight to each other.

It’s not until later, when they’re both in bed – him in his own, Even already asleep on the mattress on the floor – that he realizes what Even had said.

_A guy._

Not guys.

Is there anyone specific? Someone Even has his eyes on? Maybe someone in his school?

He looks down at Even, at the long, pale arm folded in front of him, the slope of his shoulder, the duvet hugging his hips.

And the ever-present longing in his chest is coupled with a tearing, dark, violent stabbing.

Because if this means that Even thinks he could fall in love with a guy – in another universe, somewhere, it could have been him.

If he wasn’t more than two years younger, if he wasn’t just the son of Even’s parents’ best friends.

Maybe he’s gonna have to settle for this.

For watching his chest rise and fall with his breaths. His half-open mouth, his full lips, the thin fabric of his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders.

Imagining a different reality where there is no mattress on his floor – only his bed, only one duvet, the two of them underneath it, awake, together.

And it’s better, so much better, than nothing.

Even if it’s all he can have.

 

 

**3\. “I’m just looking out for you.”**

The evening sky is a dark blue, and the late August air chilly as Isak opens the window above his desk.

“What are you doing?”

He turns his head to see Even watching him, standing on the floor with an amused grin on his face.

“Just wait. You’ll like it.”

In fact, he’s not too sure that Even  _will_  like this.

But he’s got enough hope that it’ll impress him. So, he reaches for his shirt pocket and, with a smile, he produces the joint he snuck in there when Even said goodbye to his parents in the hallway.

Even raises his eyebrows. “That’s what they taught you at scout camp?”

“Yeah.” He leans back against the window frame. “Among other things.”

Even gives him a lop-sided smile, before he climbs the desk and leans back against the other side of the window.

The dark shades under his eyes are even more pronounced now in the dusk, as are the hollows beneath his cheek bones.

Earlier on, when it’s been more than a month between their family dinners, it’s always been because of Isak’s mum. 

This time, however, it’s been over two months since the last one, and she’s been more stable than in a long time.

It could, of course, be due to the summer holidays. To the fact that he was to scout camp for ten days, and that Even was on some exchange program thing in England for three weeks.

But he can’t shake the feeling that, this time, the hiatus has something to do with Even.

Not that he hasn’t heard from him – they’ve been texting on and off, but they haven’t talked. And sometimes there’s been a delay of several hours, even a day, before Even has replied.

Usually, the month-long breaks between dinners have at least included a few nights of hanging out, just the two of them.

But this time he didn’t see Even at all. Two long, dry months, and he hasn’t even been able to decide if it’s been for the better, or worse.

At first sight of him in the hallway earlier, though, he knew. He’s missed him so much, so fucking much – he’s just been really good at imagining that he hasn’t.

And maybe he imagines the shade flashing across Even’s face as he holds out the joint towards him, or he doesn’t.

“Don’t you want some?” He raises an eyebrow at Even. “It’s good stuff.”

“Is it?” Even eyes the joint, then him. “Where did you get it, by the way?”

He shrugs. “Jonas has this new guy in his German class who fixes us up.”

“Did you try it?” Even bites his lip, a serious look on his face.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve been smoking before, it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” Even gives him an undecipherable look. And then, at last, he reaches out for the joint and lifts it to his mouth.

_God._  The way Even looks when he smokes.

His full lips closing around the white paper, his blue eyes almost grey in the evening light. The red glow from the tip when he takes a drag a stark contrast to his pale face.

The tips of Isak’s fingers already tingle as he accepts the joint back. “It’s good shit, right?”

“Yeah.” Even looks out the window, gaze fastened somewhere in the distance. “Hope they don’t come to check on us. Your parents, I mean.”

“They’ve never done that before.” Isak takes another drag, the weed crackling in the silence. “Why now?”

Even shrugs. “Nah. You’re probably right.”

He looks at Even again, and wonders if he’s noticed how casually Isak knocks the ashes off the stub, or that he hasn’t coughed even once. If he’s seen that Isak has grown a whole five centimeters during the course of this summer.

They pass the joint back and forth in silence, until it’s finished, Isak’s limbs glued to the desk, his head swimming.

“Holy shit,” Even says as he unfolds his long legs from the desk and slides down onto the floor. “This is intense.”

Isak can barely will his mouth to cooperate enough to answer, and the room spins as he leans forward to close the window, one hand on the frame to steady himself. “Uhh. Yeah.”

For a moment, he thinks he’ll slip, but then he manages to catch the window and close it. When he turns around, he sees Even sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, eyes closed.

His legs are wobbly as he climbs down from the desk and sits down beside him. “Hey. You – you okay?”

Even nods, but keeps his eyes closed. “Yeah. Whoa. I’m just – can we just sit here?”

“Yeah.”

It’s not like he’ll tell Even, but he hasn’t smoked that many times before – and never this much, this fast.

So much for trying to impress him.

He closes his eyes as well, but everything around him spins faster and faster as he does, so he pries them open again, trying to focus on something outside of himself to keep from feeling sick.

And first thing he sees is, of course, Even.

His arms are thin, and the skin on them is pale, despite the long, warm summer. A few stray hairs stand in the wrong direction, a path of brown freckles lining the sleeve of his t-shirt. His collarbone is visible through the thin fabric, and a thought flashes by – there’s something he should ask Even, something he’s been wondering –

It flits away just as fast, and he’s back to watching Even. His full lips, slightly parted, his eyelashes resting on the top of his cheeks, the soft strands of hair falling over his forehead.

He’s never wanted anything more than he wants to kiss him right now.

His fingers are itching, and the skin on his whole body tingles, like there’s something alive underneath the surface. But his limbs feel like they’re made of lead, heavy against the floor, unable to move.

Suddenly, Even blinks, opens his eyes, and looks straight at him. And time stops.

It’s probably due to the weed, but in this moment, it feels like the only things to exist are him, Even, and the sound of their breaths in the silent room.

Neither of them say anything, or move. His whole body still molten into the floor, his head glued to the side of the mattress. His hand on the floor between them, still and unmoving.

The blue of Even’s eyes is pale, his pupils dark and wide, and Isak both sees and hears the apple of his throat move as he swallows.

He has no idea for how long they sit there, suspended in time, breathing, staring at each other, the air between them thick and non-existent all at once.

Until a sharp knock on the door tears the moment apart.

“Isak?” His mother’s voice sounds distorted, like it’s filtered through water instead of a thin wooden door. “Even?”

He clears his throat. The movement feels disconnected from himself, like it’s someone else’s body doing it, before he hears his own voice, hoarse and thick. “We’re – we’re sleeping.”

“Almost,” Even adds, his voice gravelly.

There’s a moment’s silence on the other side of the door, before his mother says “Alright. Goodnight then, boys.”

“Goodnight.” He lifts his hands and turns them over, to see if they still feel like his own.

The high is already starting to wear off, and in a not too pleasant way, the tingling on his skin more and more uncomfortable. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

Even nods, slowly. “Yeah.”

They brush their teeth in silence, Isak sitting on the toilet seat, Even leaning over the sink, one hand on the cabinet beside him.

The prickling feeling in his limbs hasn’t subsided as he lies in bed a few minutes later.

It’s like he doesn’t fit into his skin, like he’s too big and too small for it all at once. Like he should get out, go somewhere else, but has no idea where.

He tries to lie still and not wake Even by scraping his feet against the bedsheets, but it’s more and more difficult with each passing second.

Just as he’s about to turn and get out of bed, Even’s voice comes up from the mattress on the floor, and it sounds smaller than he’s ever heard it.

“Can I sleep in your bed? I don’t – I don’t feel so well.”

To be honest, he’s not sure how do handle the thought of Even in his bed right now.

But, on the other hand, lying here alone is an even worse option.

“Okay.” He scoots a little closer to the wall to make room for Even, and bites the inside of his cheek.

As the mattress dips behind him, he tries not to tense up, but he’s not sure how well he manages.

His whole body feels like a live wire, alight with anxiety from the weed, and from the knowledge that Even lies only inches behind him.

And then Even’s chest is against his back, Even’s arm is around his waist, his hand on his shoulder, and he wants to cry with relief.

It’s like his touch draws all the discomfort out of him, makes it seep out and dissolve, leaving only warmth and contentedness behind.

His throat constricts, and the inside of eyes prickle. If this isn’t supposed to be his, why does it feel so fucking  _right?_

He tries to breathe steady, tries to keep control over his body and not lean too much into the touch, and then Even exhales, his breath warm on his neck.

“I – I felt really weird there for a while.” His voice is low, cracked, still small.

He swallows. “Me too.”

“Thanks for… for letting me sleep up here,” Even says next. “I – it feels a lot better now when I’m with you.”

It takes all of his efforts to not turn around in that moment.

If he would, he’d never be able to hold back from kissing Even, to let every inch of their body touch.

And what if Even would reciprocate, hold him and kiss him back, and then regret it when he’s sober?

Having Even like that and then lose him would be worse than never having him at all.

So he lies still, stares into the wall, and settles for the weight of Even’s arm across his chest.

It’s not until Even’s breaths have evened out and become heavier, that he dares to stroke his thumb over his wrist, the pulse beneath the thin skin slow but steady.

 

**+1**

It’s still dark when he wakes up.

At first, he doesn’t realize that he’s awake. Only feels this encompassing, intense feeling of contentment, of fullness and belonging, and he recognizes it from somewhere – a dream? a memory?

Until he suddenly becomes aware of where he is.

Lying with his face in the crook of Even’s neck, his nose and lips touching the thin skin over his pulse point, with his arm slung around Even’s back, Even’s arm around him, their legs intertwined.

Just like the last time.

Horrified, he snaps his head up, and opens his eyes.

Only to find that Even – unlike the last time – is wide awake, and is looking straight at him.

His eyes are pale in the dark, his breathing steady, and he blinks, once, twice, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Isak. Just watches him with a sincere, serious look on his face.

“Why – why aren’t you sleeping?” His own voice sounds hoarse, cracked.

Even bites his lip, then releases it. “I… don’t know.”

His stare is unwavering, and Isak doesn’t know how to look away. “How… how long have you been awake for?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?” Even’s voice is low, almost a whisper.

And then he lifts his hand from Isak’s back and puts a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

The look in his eyes is so fond as he does it that Isak is sure his heart will stop.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know where to put his hands, doesn’t know how to breathe.

Even’s arms are warm and heavy around him, and maybe he should move away. But he can’t. He can’t move a limb, not a single finger.

Only watch Even as he watches him, his thumb brushing over Isak’s cheek, his face suddenly closer, mere inches from his own.

Isak holds his breath. Waits. Holds it.

And then, just like that, he doesn’t have it in him to wait anymore.

He grabs hold of Even’s t-shirt at the back of his neck, draws a breath, and kisses him.

It’s just a touch of lips at first, before he pulls back, breath short, throat tight with what he’s done. Even’s are lips parted, and his eyes wide and full of wonder.

And before he has time to turn around and bury his face in the pillow, Even slides his hand around his neck, and kisses him back.

How many times has he imagined this, awake or in his dreams?

He has no idea.

All he knows is that he never thought it would feel like  _this._

As Even presses their lips together, opens his mouth and tilts his head to the side, he can feel goosebumps rise all over his skin. His mouth is so warm, and it sends tingles all the way down his spine as their tongues touch – only a brush, but it feels so  _much._  

And nothing could prepare him for the smallest, most important details: how Even’s breath warms his upper lip when his nose is aligned with Isak’s own. How his eyelashes tickle against his cheek. Or how his breath stutters as Isak dares move his hand down to his upper back, and press him closer.

They kiss and kiss and kiss until he loses track of time, without any idea how long they’ve been lying here. His chest feels tight and endlessly full at the same time – if he could, he’d crawl inside Even, let himself be surrounded by him and stay there.

To be honest, he’s a bit afraid of what will happen when they stop. What Even will say. What will become of them.

Right now, he’s not sure he wants to know. 

So, he keeps kissing him, again and again, ignoring the way his lips tingle and that his mouth starts to feel dry.

At last, Even draws back and lays his head down on the pillow. His eyes are wide, and he licks his lips, swollen and red. It’s silent for a beat as they watch each other, and Isak holds his breath, waiting.

Until finally, Even lifts his hand to Isak’s face, cards his fingers through the hair at his temple, and speaks.

“Do you – do you remember that day when I waited for you? At school?”

He feels weightless, short of breath. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember what I said? On the sidewalk?” Even’s palm is warm and big against his cheek, unmoving.

“You – you said that you didn’t know if you were into guys. Instead of girls.”

“No, I didn’t.” Even moves even closer, their foreheads touching.

“Yes. You did.”

“No.” Even smiles, and traces his eyebrow with his thumb. “I said  _a guy.”_

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, then. But I – I didn’t know what you meant, if you meant like, someone specific, like someone in your class, or guys in general –”

“God, Isak.” Even’s eyes almost disappear as he smiles even bigger, and shakes his head. “You’re so fucking thick sometimes.”

But the way he says it makes Isak’s insides fill with warmth.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much this summer.” He lets his own hand come to rest around the back of Even’s head.

Suddenly, Even’s face is serious again, his eyes blank. “Me too.”

“Where were you?” He moves his hand down to Even’s neck, fingers carding through the hair behind his ear.

“I – can we talk about it later? I really wanna tell you… everything.” Even bites his lip, before he looks down at Isak’s mouth, and then into his eyes again. “But – right now, can we just… kiss again? Please?

Even’s pulse beats quickly underneath his palm, alive, steady.

They do need to talk, of course. About a lot of things. What this means. Their parents, the future. Everything.

Right now, though, there’s only them, here in his bed, under the duvet.

So he nods, and holds on to Even’s neck, before he leans in, and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://irazor.tumblr.com)!


End file.
